


Tristesse

by Brawness



Category: Winner (Band)
Genre: Angst, CEO Seunghoon, Fluff, I need to get a grip, Injury, M/M, Painter Mino, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-16 04:47:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17542937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brawness/pseuds/Brawness
Summary: Mino stopped answering his calls.





	Tristesse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mercurialmermaid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercurialmermaid/gifts).



> Please note that this is a work of fiction based on real people. It was written for the sole purpose of entertainment and does not in any way reflect on the lives, opinions and personalities of the real individuals.
> 
> I request for the privacy of the individuals whom this story was based on. Please DO NOT send it to them or find ways for them to see it. This is all for fun and I do not wish for them to be burdened by something that I wrote.
> 
> This story may contain sensitive topics. Please read at you own discretion.

_ “Waiting is painful. Forgetting is painful. But not knowing which to do is the worse kind of suffering.” - Paulo Coelho _

 

He really did not regret keeping his own apartment even though he could've moved in with him last year. Even when he was asked to move in with him. Even if it was an active barrier keeping them from being completely together. 

 

Even if it meant staring up at his own ceiling at two in the morning because the literal pain in his neck kept him up and he couldn't even be kind to himself to take a painkiller. 

 

So he bore it, like everything else. 

 

He was used to it. 

 

Which was the fucking joke of the century because he shouldn't have to. Not when he was in a ‘relationship’. 

 

But that was his fault too. He gave too much and expected too little. 

 

Nothing ever hurt so much as realizing in his lowest moment that his worth was less than another business deal. Or that he didn't even merit a personal call, but a call from the secretary that there was another business trip to some other country's financial district. 

 

He brushed the betraying wetness that tracked his temple and closed his eyes. 

 

*

 

He had a lot to make up for. He knew that. He was guilty. 

 

Mino was too kind. Too generous. 

 

And he had been taking advantage of him since the start of their relationship.

 

Mino had been too abiding about his grueling schedule. Too willing to forgive the times that he missed dinner in favor of his other appointments, or the times he cancelled their dates so he could attend another meeting. 

 

And to what end? 

 

The company will always keep growing the more work he put into it. There will always be a better deal, a bigger risk, a greater goal. And it never ends. 

 

But his time with Mino might. 

 

He told his secretary this information. 

 

“Funny you only realized this when Mino stopped answering your calls.” Was the reply. 

 

Jinwoo never minced his words especially when it came to Mino whom he had a soft spot for. 

 

Even though he was his secretary, they were also somewhat friends, and Jinwoo was a confidant that he trusted with everything. 

 

“I'm  a dick, I know.”

 

Jinwoo scoffed. “That is a kinder word than I would like to use.” 

 

He winced. 

 

“You have a lot to make up for.” 

 

“I know.” 

 

*

 

He was weak.

 

This was attested by his inability to not answer his call. 

 

Oh he tried. 

 

He was able to resist for three days. 

 

He put the phone on speaker since he couldn’t be bothered to press it to his ear. 

 

“Mino.” Softly. 

 

He closed his eyes and clenched his fist. 

 

“You stopped answering my calls.” 

 

He still did not reply. It was ironic that while he was hurt, he couldn’t help but be comforted by the mere sound of his voice. As if his stupid heart wasn’t battered by the weeks of non communication. Sure they talked. They met up. 

 

But that was it. 

 

“I’m tired.” 

 

There was total silence on the other end. 

 

“I can never keep up, huh?” He breathed out. 

 

He never can and never will be able to. Not with the exalted circles that Seunghoon walked in. It was an entire world that excluded him aside from the brief occasions when Seunghoon took him there. 

 

“Look, I’m sorry. It was an emergency and I was needed-, I-” 

 

A pinch of pain reminded him that just a few weeks ago he had an emergency too, but he guessed he didn’t have that kind of importance to fly halfway across the world for. 

 

“I need you.” Came the resigned sigh. 

 

Mino gave a startled laugh. He did not expect that at all. Lee Seunghoon. CEO Lee. Owner of Lionsgate International. Needed him. 

 

“To what, warm your bed?” He replied derisively. 

 

A choked sound. “Mino, that is not what-” 

 

He cut him off, his feelings starting to bubble up, like lunch that had gone bad, spoiling to burst from his throat. 

 

“You’re not with me. Again.” 

 

“I’m sorry. I had meetings, Mino-” 

 

Same excuses. Same. Damn. Reasons. 

 

Reasons why Mino just wasn’t enough. 

 

“I was never a part of your priorities.” He whispered. 

 

“That is unfair.” 

 

He clutched the phone closer before he hung up. 

 

“Is it?” 

 

*

 

Seunghoon wiped his sweating hands on his pants pacing nervously in front of Mino’s apartment building. He was empty handed. Because what could really one bring to salvage one’s relationship when he wasn’t sure if he even had one to salvage? 

 

Jinwoo wasn’t telling him something when he asked if he should go meet up with Mino. He suddenly became shifty and excused himself. There was something going on. 

 

He went up, took a deep breath and knocked on the door. 

 

No answer. 

 

Mino usually had music on when he was painting so it was likely that he didn’t hear. Or he was out. He fiddled with the spare key he knew he had no right to use at the moment and made up his mind. 

 

The atelier as they’ve taken to calling Mino’s apartment, was quiet. The curtains were drawn close and the air was cold. 

 

All the painting accoutrements were neatly organized, something he was unused to seeing, knowing how Mino liked to work in a perfectly orchestrated mess. 

 

He walked quietly, knowing that his presence was not welcome. 

 

Mino was sleeping. His darkened bedroom almost beckoned him to just slide into the covers with his lover, but he stopped himself. No need to infringe on his privacy any more than he already has. 

 

Instead, he went into the kitchen and started ordering food for them. He really did not want to contemplate a negative end to their conversation, but he figured he needed all the help he could get. 

 

*

 

Mino gingerly got up from his bed after being woken up by the soft signs of life coming from his kitchen. 

 

Jinwoo had been too kind bringing Mino food even when he didn’t ask for it. His boyfriend’s secretary was better at being a boyfriend than his own. 

 

He threw on a robe, because he was cold as of late, and no amount of heating could get warmth into him. He stopped dead. 

 

Seunghoon was in his kitchen, arranging what looked like takeout food on a tray. 

 

For a while he just stood there, his emotions an ugly mess, both wanting to shut himself back inside his room or throw himself into Seunghoon’s arms. Either way would have him crying. 

 

“What are you doing here.” He opted instead. 

 

Seunghoon looked up, his jet black hair falling rakishly into his eye like a stereotypical CEO from a daytime drama. 

 

It utterly galled him that even in this state, Mino’s heart still dared skip a beat. 

 

“I brought you food.” 

 

He wrapped the robe closer to himself, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. 

 

“Why are you here?” He asked again. 

 

Seunghoon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can we at least have some food before I explain myself? I just got off my flight and went straight here.” 

 

Mino pursed his lips.    
  
But he sat on the table anyway since he was a weak person. 

 

*

 

Seunghoon couldn’t taste the pork belly that his and Mino’s favorite. 

 

Mino picked at his food with his fork, not really bothering to pretend as if he was eating. 

 

“This is not working out anymore.” 

 

Those were the words Seunghoon did not wish to hear but had to address all the same. 

 

“I know. I’m sorry.” He acknowledged. He was wrong from the very start. Wrong in thinking that they were fine, that they can continue as they have started, with their own lives, all the while having a serious and committed relationship. 

 

Maybe it was okay when they were just fuck buddies with no actual obligation to each other. 

 

But they made it official. They had keys to each others’ apartments.

 

He loved Mino. 

 

Although at this point in time, he would have a damn hard time proving that to him. 

 

The silence lengthened and he saw the fork tremble in Mino’s hand.

 

“I am taking a break from the company.” 

 

Mino looked up, his expression inscrutable. 

 

“In my greed of wanting to expand, I forgot the one important thing why it mattered.” 

 

He reached across the table and tentatively put his hand over Mino’s cold one. “I know I have a lot to make up for. I’ve been an asshole.”

 

“You still are.” Mino mumbled, looking away. 

 

Seunghoon snorted, relief slowly trickling in. The fact that Mino hasn’t rejected his touch was a good sign. 

 

“I will not ask for your forgiveness like this. I hurt you too much for too long. But please let me make it up to you.” He implored. 

 

Mino turned glassy eyes towards him, throat working, lips turned down. “Why are you still over there?” 

 

He didn’t need to be told twice. He went around the table and knelt in front of Mino, this time catching both of his hands, kissing the knuckles of each hand. He was given a second chance. 

 

And he did not grow a multimillion dollar company out of nothing if he did not know how to exploit an opportunity. 

 

*

 

He almost forgot how good it felt to be held by Seunghoon. How their bodies naturally positioned to accommodate each other. His warmth. His smell. 

 

Mino closed his eyes, feeling most of his anxiety ease just by being in his presence. That was what he admired most about Seunghoon. His air of assuredness, as if nothing bad could possibly happen as long as he was there. That Mino would be perfectly fine as long as he was with him. 

 

“You’ve lost weight.” An hand gently coursed down his spine. 

 

All they did was cuddle after their late lunch. It had been a while, but Mino couldn’t think of anything else other than comfort now that Seunghoon was there. Plus he didn’t think he could handle anything too physical. 

 

“You did too.” He replied. 

 

“We’ve both been working too hard, I guess.” 

 

His chest went cold. He hasn’t worked on anything for the past few weeks. 

 

Mino sat up abruptly, disquiet making his heart pound and cold sweat start forming. 

 

“Mino?” Seunghoon sat up, worried. “Is something wrong?” 

 

He shook his head sharply. “No. Nothing is wrong.” Nothing is wrong. Everything will be fine. He will be fine. He had to be. 

 

“Come here.” Arms tried to pull him back into Seunghoon’s chest, but the movement and Mino’s slight resistance to it suddenly sent bolts of pain scraping through his muscles, from the side of his neck to his right shoulder down to his arm.

 

All of a sudden, he was in debilitating pain, unable to do anything but succumb to it. 

 

“Mino!” 

 

He could hear Seunghoon’s normally calm voice urgently ask him what was wrong, but he couldn’t reply. He tried to breathe through the pain, clenching his jaw shut to prevent himself from actually moaning from it. Black dots appeared in front of his eyes. Oh god, he was going to pass out. 

 

It was until he felt a hand on his shoulder, thankfully not the bad one, that had him clinging to consciousness. 

 

“Don’t.” He bit out harshly. “Hurts.” 

 

It took a while, maybe a few minutes. A few hours. He did not know. But the radiating, pulsating pain dulled into a terrifying, immobile numbness. He opened his eyes. 

 

Seunghoon was in front of him, both of his hands chafing his good one, face pale and strained as if he was the one who experienced the entire ordeal. 

 

“Let’s go to the doctor.” 

 

He shook his head once. He already went. They told him what was wrong. 

 

“Neck brace. Side table drawer.” 

 

He felt it being secured with the utmost care, and the stability it offered had him breathe a sigh of relief. He should’ve worn it when he woke up, but he totally forgot. He slowly lowered himself on the bed, mindful that he didn’t jostle his neck and shoulder and gripped the corner of the pillow. 

 

The bed depressed where Seunghoon sat. His voice barely a wisp of sound. 

 

“H-how do I hold you?”

 

Mino smiled in spite of his discomfort. It really was a wonder how he felt so much better just by having Seunghoon there with him. 

 

“Very carefully.” He said.

 

Being pulled into someone’s arms as if he was the most fragile and precious thing in the world was something he never experienced before. He suddenly felt weak and vulnerable. About to break. 

 

“Don’t. Mino. God.” Soft lips were on his temple. His brow. 

 

He burrowed as close as he would dare to move. Seunghoon, his stolid frame, moving to accommodate him, letting him get as close as he wished, all the while his fingers busily erasing the evidence of desperation from Mino’s cheeks. 

 

“Shh. I got you.” 

 

Soft assurances tempered by the strong hand that gripped his like a lifeline. Mino’s lifeline. He was trembling and terrified. 

 

“Tell me.” 

 

And he did. 

 

*

 

Seunghoon quit smoking years ago but for some reason always carried a pack with him for emergencies. 

 

This moment was such. 

 

It took him several tries before he was actually able to light one, his hand shook so much, he couldn’t get the lighter to go. 

 

Mino had an accident two weeks ago. Fell off the ladder when he was doing one of his commissioned murals. At first nothing was wrong aside from bruising and soreness. Three days later he almost passed out from the pain radiating from his neck down the right side of his torso and arm. 

 

Herniated cervical disc, Mino said. 

 

For all his worldly knowledge, he actually had to google the term for his layman mind to understand. But basically something from Mino’s spine was slightly bulging outward, pinching several nerves causing pain and numbness. And also some weakness and immobility. 

 

“I did all the tests last week. The doctor said I should be fine with a few weeks of rest and physical therapy.” Mino explained, but the tightness of his lips said that he was still worried despite the assurances. 

 

He also googled how the diagnostic testing went and fear literally overcame him, knowing that Mino went through all of them all alone. He wanted to yell. Throw something. His Mino who went through life pretending to be strong when he was so sensitive and vulnerable. He went through all of the scary and painful tests without anyone to comfort him. 

 

He didn’t know if there was ever a way he could make up for that. 

 

No amount of money could ever make up for that. 

 

He took a deep inhale and almost choked. His eyes were watering from more than the burn of the smoke. 

 

Mino was sleeping again, Seunghoon mindfully arranging him in the most comfortable position when he stood up from the bed for a cigarette. 

 

The barrenness of the atelier became apparent to him. There were no artworks in progress like before. Only finished ones. Brushes and paints that were usually strewn around the piece he was working on were meticulously organized instead.  

 

“I can’t even hold a brush right now.” 

 

And that was when he realized the gravity of the situation. 

 

Mino cannot paint. His heart, petrified with fear that the very essence that made Mino uniquely Mino might be permanently compromised had him reaching for a second stick to burn. 

 

Mino without his art. 

 

It was a terrifying thing to contemplate. He did not know how to fix that. 

 

He did not know how to fix someone who lost their soul. 

 

Because that would be the destruction that would happen if the damage was unfixable. And Seunghoon did not know how to cope with that either. 

 

He would take him to the best doctors. The best therapists. 

 

He would use all the cursed money he earned from neglecting Mino for the longest time. 

 

But even that will not appease the gaping hole that appeared in his chest the moment Mino told him what happened. 

 

Mino forgave him already. But Seunghoon won’t forgive himself. 

 

*

 

“It looks like the inflammation has gone down. Have you been taking the pain medication as needed?” 

 

Mino nodded. 

 

Another doctor’s visit the following day Seunghoon came to him. The older insisted to accompany him. He grudgingly allowed it, because it meant he did not have to drive. It was already stressful enough to navigate the city, but to add snow to the mix was something Mino did not enjoy. Also, it meant that Seunghoon was with him when the verdict has passed. At least he wouldn’t be shitting bricks by himself. 

 

His heart was pounding and his breath hitching by the time he made it to the waiting area after the consultation. For some reason, he did not want Seunghoon to hear the result straight from the doctor, so he asked him to wait for him at the lobby, which the older did not take kindly to, but agreed anyway. 

 

Seunghoon was standing there, looking resplendent with his obviously expensive overcoat draped over his shoulders, two cups of coffee in a holder in one hand. He just came back from the cafe outside, his hair was brushed up but windblown. 

 

He swiftly made his way  across the huge lobby, not giving two fucks about the people he almost bumped into in the process. He didn’t care. He needed to get to Seunghoon. 

 

He needed him. 

 

Seunghoon must have realized the urgency in Mino’s face, he put their coffee down on a random bench and started towards Mino. 

 

The sheer relief of being enveloped in his arms, feeling his warmth wrap around him as Seunghoon also drew the overcoat around both of them had his tightly coiled control finally break. 

 

A jagged sound ripped from his throat, had his chest bucking against the force of it. He held on to the cloth of Seunghoon’s cashmere sweater, twisting. 

 

“Seunghoon. Seunghoon.” He repeated the name like a litany. Broken. 

 

His lover held him tightly, hand slid through his hair, pressing Mino to his body, as if he could keep him together by sheer force alone. 

 

It hurt. It hurt so much. 

 

*

 

He had not known that kind of fear in his entire life, until he saw Mino emerge from the doctor’s office, face white as a fucking sheet, rushing to him as if running away from actual demons. 

 

The fear that escalated into panic when Mino clutched at him desperately, gasping for breath, unable to catch up from the sobs that left his lungs, all the while calling his name. 

 

He held on to him, scared that if he let go, they would both crumble to the floor. 

 

“Mino. Mino.” He mouthed against his ear, his body shaking, but holding them together. 

 

He started promising useless things. Futile things. Hopeful things. Promising with his entire being. “We’ll find other doctors. We’ll go to the US. I will be there with you. All the way. Please. Mino. Please. You’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.” 

 

Mino started to pull away. Literally pushing Seunghoon away from him. 

 

It hurt. It hurt more than anything he had a right to feel. Mino looked up, eyes red, face still white, except for the angry color on his cheeks.

 

“Full recovery.” He gasped. 

 

“What?” 

 

Mino grabbed his lapel and shook him. “The doctor said, I will make a full recovery. Prognosis was good.” 

 

It took his brain several seconds to process this, his thinking clouded by anxiety and fear. And when it finally took hold, he released what felt like the first breath he had in months. 

 

He took Mino around the waist and gently lifted him. His chest against Seunghoon’s face, he could hear the erratic heartbeats and labored breaths, the younger’s arms hugging his head, burying his face into his hair. 

 

He did not care that people were looking. He did not care that some of them probably even knew him and Mino. 

 

There was no power on earth that could make him let Mino go. Not now. 

 

Not ever. 

 

*

 

The atelier was set in subtropical climate, just the way they both preferred, so they could go around with as little clothes as possible in the middle of winter. 

 

Seunghoon lay on his back clad in his boxers with Mino splayed over him in his pajama bottoms.

 

Strenuous activity was still prohibited by the doctor until the next follow up, but they made it work. 

 

With their sweat drying from the warm air, Seunghoon played with the strands of Mino’s hair, rough from the chemical treatments, it was bleached and toned gray, but grew slightly out of its style, the black roots showing. 

 

It was long enough that it was satisfying to twine his fingers with the locks that fell towards Mino’s face. He would touch his lashes now and again, tickle his ear just to annoy him. 

 

“I promoted Jinwoo to deputy chair.” 

 

Mino made a sound of approval. “Good. Took you long enough.” 

 

“He will be travelling in my stead. I will still be taking care of our local operations, but will delegate a lot of the duties to our staff. We are big enough now. I can afford to get people to do the work for me.” 

 

“Spoken like a true CEO.” Mino teased. 

 

“Do you understand what I mean, Mino?” 

 

Mino got up on his elbows, brows furrowed. “What do you mean.” 

 

“I will have more free time now.” He explained slowly. 

 

“Okay?” 

 

He sighed. He really did have to spell it out. It was never in Mino’s nature to assume anything, but preferred to take things at face value. 

 

“No more irregular hours, extended business trips and excessive phone calls.” He watched as the realization dawned on Mino. 

 

“It means breakfast, dinner. Sex. Movie dates. Gallery openings. Trying new restaurants. Sex. Netflix and chill.” He grinned. “Oh and did I mention sex?”  

 

Mino’s lips twitched as if preventing a smile. 

 

“Oh, I don’t know. They all translated as sex to me.” 

 

Never let it be said that Lee Seunghoon wasn’t one to exploit an opportunity.  

 

*

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> \- This story was written in response to a prompt by twitter user @kenainot, and dedicated to my lovely sisters T and M, who need a break right now. 
> 
> \- I started writing this upon seeing the prompt right after the Winner in LA concert. Haha. Gosh they were so beautiful. And so close! Like. What pores. 
> 
> \- Mino was such a challenge to write, I am not used to writing him as the more vulnerable character. I hope I did him justice. 
> 
> \- Please let me know what you think in the comments below, I'd love to hear from you. 
> 
> \- I also have a [twitter](https://twitter.com/usmarchioness?s=09)
> 
> \- Also an easter egg for those who are interested. Look up the title. But remember that a word is more than just its meaning. :D 
> 
> \- Thanks for reading!!!


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